


African Holiday

by owakoblack



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:14:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29010366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owakoblack/pseuds/owakoblack
Summary: Pedro is the nation of Portugal and Antonio is the nation of Spain. For convenience, I use their human names instead of the names of nations in this fiction.Pedro and Spain meet at Ceuta, a city in Africa.
Relationships: Portugal/Spain (Hetalia), Spain/Portugal
Kudos: 3





	African Holiday

On a very quiet night, a long-haired little boy was sleeping alone on a large, soft bed. Such a huge bed was more suitable for at least two boys lying on it, and sure enough, this boy lied on the right side of the bed, as if saving a place for somebody to sleep on the left side.

Suddenly, a knock at the bedroom door broke the silence, causing the boy in bed to wake. He did not get up at once, but simply turned onto the other side.

“Disculpe, may I come in?” A sweet voice of a little boy called out beyond the door. Both the boys had dark-brown hair.

The boy in bed reached out for a spare pillow lying on the left side of the bed, and pressed it upon his ear, trying hard to continue sleeping.

“I can’t sleep, can I sleep with you?” The child outside the door raised his voice, and knocked more loudly.

“How old are you? Can’t you sleep alone? It’s time to grow up!” The boy in bed finally replied.

“Lo siento.”

Since then, the boy outside the door never came again.

In Ceuta, a harbour city on the northern tip of Africa, you can find everywhere talkative Spaniards, logos written in Spanish, products from Europe, flags in red and gold colours, and you feel there is no difference from Andalusia on the other side of the Mediterranean Sea. However, Africa is not Europe after all. It is much more significant to travel from continent to continent, rather than to travel from province to province, or from country to country. 

A barbería on the opposite of the port has no difference from most of the barberías on the Spanish mainland either: right now inside the barbería where Enrique Iglesias’ dancing songs were playing, a barber with a big beard was sweeping away hair left on the chair, while swaying to the music, cheerfully. It is a mystery that the Spaniards can keep excited all the time, perchance because of lovely sunshine, perchance because of the blue sea--it is a happy nation after all.

As the wind chimes on the glass door of the shop rang merrily, the door opened, a cool sea wind blew in, and a tall young man walked inside. His long dark-brown hair was tied into a pony tail, a caramel jacket rounded his slim waist, and a pair of goggles hung on his well-built chest.

“¡Buenos días! ¿Tiene una reserva?” As soon as the barber straightened up to see the young man’s face, his smile turned into a surprised look, “Dios mío, did I just trim Señor’s hair? How come it grows back even longer than before within a blink of an eye?”

“Don’t worry, Señor Peluquero, I’m still here. I just paid at the counter.” Another young man touched the back of the barber from behind, and put both of his hands in front of his face to form a picture frame, “after trimming my hair, I’m as cool as a breeze!” The short-haired young man winked his light green eyes while smiling brightly, and incredibly, some stars fell out of the frame.

“What a coincidence, Antonio. I just arrived from the port, and spotted you inside this barbershop.”

“Isn’t it Pedro? I’ve never expected you here!”

The confused barber turned his head to look at the picture-framing, short-haired young man, and then turned back to see the long-haired young man who just walked into the shop. He found that both of their faces and bodies exactly the same, even the colours of their hair, eyes, and skin the same too, as if God conveniently used the same colours from his colour palette to paint these two , except that He dotted a beauty spot under the right eye of the long-haired one, in order to distinguish from his twin. “You two are twins!” the barber exclaimed.

“We are not twins!” the two young men protested in one voice.

“So...you two are brothers who look much alike?”

“We are just neighbours!” two men, one voice again.

“Are you really just neighbours? I can tell from your appearances that you two are related by blood!” The barber stretched out his strong arms to bring both of the young men close together, and shouted to a girl at the counter. “Isabel, don’t you think they look much alike? Mira, mira,” the barber turned Pedro’s face towards Isabel, “when his pony tail couldn’t be seen from the front, even their hair styles are los mismos!”

“Even so,” Isabel shrugged her thin shoulders, “los amigos have told you they ain’t bros, so they ain’t bros, are you thinking of helping people recover their long-lost familia?”

“I see, it’s a matter of hair style.” Pedro mused, “por favor, Señor Peluquero, could you make a new hair style for me?”

Half an hour later, Pedro’s long dark-brown hair was trimmed thin and made more stylish, which reached down his prominent collarbones.

“Listo, as cool as a breeze!” Imitating Antonio, the barber put his hands to form a picture frame in front of Pedro, but this time there were no fallen stars, for Pedro did not wink, but instead smiled mildly to his mirrored self. “In this way, you two don’t look the same any more!” the barber admired his masterpiece happily, “Señor looks so handsome, bueno, guapo!”

“Gracias, but I’m a navigator, it’s better for me to tie my hair while sailing at sea. However, today I have a holiday, and Antonio is beside me, let me forget the pony tail for a while.” He brushed gracefully his long hair with his hand, satisfied.

After leaving the barbería, Pedro and Antonio walked leisurely in the direction of the old town. Pedro’s caramel jacket was again tied around his waist, and despite the hot African weather, he wore short black gloves. He and Antonio both wore short-sleeve shirts, and their opening collars revealed deep shapes of their chest cleavages.

“Pedro, why are you in Africa?” Antonio walked a step ahead of the quiet young man, turning around to look at the other with his bright green eyes.

“Me chame de Pedro, faz favor. In Portuguese, you should pronounce ‘Pedru’, instead of ‘Pedro’.” Pedro spoke in Portuguese--even though he had spoken fluent Spanish at the barber’s, he had got used to speak Portuguese to Antonio whenever they were alone. 

“Todo bien, ‘Pedru’. You know although I can understand Portuguese, I don’t speak it well.” Antonio continued to communicate with Pedro in Spanish, while the other spoke Portuguese.

“Our ship is heading to a tall ship festival in Marseilles. When we crossed the Strait of Gibraltar, I thought of our past in Ceuta, so I stopped to visit here.”

“Our past in Ceuta? You mean yours and mine?” 

Pedro nodded slightly.

Antonio began to feel anxious, deliberately avoiding Pedro’s gaze.

When they were approaching the gate of the old town, they saw a huge coat of arms of the city which looked very similar to the Portuguese national coat of arms: in the middle of the red shield are five blue mini shields, surrounded by seven golden tiny castles.

When they were about to cross the street, Pedro stopped short.

“In Spain, you don’t have to wait for traffic lights all the time...” Antonio wanted to push him, but he found the Portuguese was gazing on a sculpture in the middle of the round-about. It was the sculpture of Prince Henry the Navigator.

Pedro kept silent, but his emerald eyes spoke for him. In his eyes, there was a mixture of worship, nostalgia, and sorrow. Such a beautiful, bright young man was suddenly shrouded by sadness, just like the sun shadowed by dark clouds, and a cool breeze laden with salt.

“Disculpe, I suddenly remember I have some important thing to do, can I leave?” Antonio tried to escape, but was stopped at once by another.

“Don’t you go, you should be my tour guide.”

“Even though you wish so, there is not much worth tour guiding...”

Much against his will, Antonio led Pedro to a bastion east to the old town gate, which is one of the landmarks in Ceuta. An edge of the bastion extended gracefully into a moat circling the city, where deep blue seawater turned into emerald, and a big school of small fish attracted the attention of several migrant birds. Above the top of the bastion, a flag of blood and gold was flying proudly.

Antonio noticed that Pedro was becoming more and more moody. He felt so guilty that he wanted to climb up the bastion to tear down the flag, if he could.

At this moment, a pair of Asian twin girls went towards them.

“Excuse me, do you speak English?”

Antonio was not confident in his English, so he eyed Pedro for assistance.

“How can I help you, beautiful ladies?” Pedro replied in British English, and later, according to these girls’ request, took photos for them. Antonio chuckled quietly, because he knew that Pedro had kind of “yellow fever”, for he had a particular passion for Asians, which had been one of the secret reasons why he had ventured so far away to Asia during the Age of Discovery.

“May I ask if we could take photos together? We are all twins!”

“Pero nosotros no somos gemelos...” Antonio tried to deny without a second thought, but these Asian girls did not understand his Spanish.

“Certainly! Antonio, come here!” Apparently, Pedro was afraid of making the shy Asian girls embarrassed, so he did not deny he and Antonio being twins, and pulled the Spaniard to take photos together.

“Can we ask a question about history?” the girls asked carefully.

“Ask away, darlings.” Pedro winked, smiling.

“Doesn’t Ceuta belong to Spain? Why are there so many Portuguese emblems here then?”

“Umm, as for this question, it’s better to let Antonio explain, for he’s the local tour guide.”

Antonio felt stressed, for it would be a challenge for him to explain the complicate history related to both Spain and Portugal in his “broken” English. It was obvious that Pedro wanted to make fun of him. However, if he cast the task back to Pedro, when recalling the past, would Pedro become sad again? Antonio did not feel like seeing that sorrowful face, so he began to explain slowly in English:

“Ceuta was a part of Morocco long time ago. In the year of 1415, Prince Henry of Portugal conquered this military fortress...”

“Excuse me, who was Prince Henry?” the girls asked.

“He was a great navigator who started the Portuguese Age of Discovery. From then on, Portugal gradually discovered new sea routes. The new route to India discovered by Vasco da Gama was in fact the continuation of Prince Henry’s sea routes. In other words, if there were no Prince Henry, there would have been no Vasco da Gama, or even the Portuguese Empire. Perhaps Prince Henry is not as famous as da Gama worldwide, but for Portugal, he was the most important person.”

The twin girls began to admire this prince, “How brave are the navigators to discover the unknown world!”

“He is also a navigator.” Antonio pointed to Pedro, who was smiling in the shade of a tree. “Let me continue the history of Spain and Portugal. After the conquest, Portugal rebuilt Ceuta, so the city coat of arms contains Portuguese emblems. Between 1580 and 1640, Portugal was ruled by Spain. Many Spanish people migrated to Ceuta, so even after Portugal’s independence from Spain in 1640, Ceuta still sided with Spain. Finally in 1668, Portugal ceded Ceuta to Spain. Therefore, you can still see Spanish flags flying on the African continent today.”

After the twin girls had left, Antonio and Pedro found all museums closed at noon. As the sun was becoming hotter, they had no choice but to sit down at an ice cream parlour by the seaside.

It seemed that Pedro was exhausted by the hot weather, for even ice cream could not cheer him up. He kept silent and ate quietly without looking up at Antonio, which made Antonio unbearable. Finally, Antonio broke the ice:

“Pedro, I want to say that I am sorry, for I have taken up the place you had cherished.”

“Which place?” Pedro tucked his long hair behind his ear, and had another spoonful of ice cream.

“This place, Ceuta.”

Pedro fell silent again for a moment. Then, his head turned slightly towards Antonio, a pair of scorching eyes stared at the Spaniard fiercely behind long hair, and he said: “Now you know that you’re sorry, you know that...” he covered his mouth with a hand, as if trying hard to suffocate his moaning, “...you already know that Dom Henrique was the person I had most respected, most loved...and this place had been the first step where we began to explore the world...and yet, you...!”

“Pedro...”

“You were too strong, too powerful--so powerful that you swallow up everyone who were close to you...Aragon, Navarre, Granada...being your neighbour, you had no idea how hard I had tried to survive...and you still don’t know why I want to keep distance from you--you’ve never cared about others.”

“...lo siento.”

“...that’s why I set my knights guard against you on borders.” Pedro added.

Antonio did not know how to reply, and Pedro lost the interest of continuing their conversation, so these two kept silent while watching the blue Mediterranean Sea and eating ice cream. After a while, two identical cats approached them for food, and they gave the cats ice cream respectively. Later, the cats curled up to sleep under their legs. It was time for siesta. The two young men bent on the table and fell asleep too.

When Antonio woke up, he found himself alone, a caramel jacket covering his back.

“Señor, did you sleep well? Your brother has already paid the bill.” A waiter came over and smiled at him.

“When did he leave?”

“About half an hour ago. He went in the direction of the port, perhaps to board a ship.”

Hearing this, Antonio grabbed Pedro’s jacket at once, and ran towards the port.

There were countless vessels from all over the world at the port, but Antonio had some clue for finding out Pedro’s ship.

Sure enough, before long, he spotted a huge sail ship with three masts. Upon the white sails, there were red crosses of the Order of Christ.

“Disculpe, is Pedro on this ship?” Antonio stopped a sailor who was about to board.

“Which Pedro? We have many Pedros on the ship!”

“He has long hair, and a spot under his right eye.” Antonio panted from running.

“Let me think...” the sailor looked baffled.

“Alright, he looks very much like me!” Antonio finally confessed.

“Ah, I see!” the sailor turned around and shouted to the top cabins of the ship, “Captain, your little brother has come to see you off!”

“I’m not his brother,” Antonio said quickly, “and I just come to return his jacket.”

“Thank you for returning my jacket,” Pedro went down slowly from the ship. He wore a set of deep blue navy uniform, his long hair tied neatly behind. “By the way, I do recall that you had called me ‘mi hermano’ when you were a very little child, didn’t you?”

“It’s not true, I had only called you by your birth name...it’s you who had called me ‘meu irmão’.”  
“I’d never done that.”

“Yes, you had.”

When the siren was blown, Antonio knew that Pedro’s ship, Sagres, was about to set out. He raised his hands high in the air and waved happily towards Pedro, who was standing on the deck, watching him whom was down below.

“¡Adiós, Lusitania!” Antonio smiled, brighter than the sun.

\--Lusitania, isn’t this Pedro’s birth name? Suddenly, some long-lost memory flashed back to Pedro’s mind.

On a very quiet night, he was lying on a large bed sleeplessly. Suddenly, there was a knock on the bedroom door.

“Lusitania?” a sweet voice of a boy called out.

“Sim?” he replied lazily.

Knowing the boy in bed was still awake, the boy outside opened the unlocked door, and went in.  
“Can I sleep with you, Lusitania?” a pair of light green eyes was looking innocently at him.

He opened his arms to the boy, and smiled mildly, “claro, meu irmão.”

Long long time ago, Pedro had indeed called Antonio “my brother”, and only Antonio had called him by his birth name. Are they really not related by blood? They look so much alike, they had been so close, and nobody could understand them better than they understand each other. What made them separate from each other?

Looking at the young man waving on the quay who had the same face as his, Pedro suddenly had an urge to touch, to embrace, and to merge with him--his brother. Before the ship started moving, he dashed down to the quay, and jumped onto Antonio.

“Lusitania?”

Pedro held Antonio tightly in his arms. Back lighted, his bright green eyes had never seemed so profound before, as if trying to convey millions of words. However, Pedro chose not to say a single word, but to kiss directly on Antonio’s petal-soft lips.

Basking in orange light of the African sunset, the two brothers embraced and kissed each other for a long while, until eventually, Pedro broke the kiss and left silver saliva on his brother’s lips. Antonio looked at him, confused, intoxicated.

“If we’re not brothers, I think it’s fine to kiss you.” Pedro smiled mildly.

“Claro, we’re not brothers at all.” Antonio blushed, and kissed Pedro again.


End file.
